


In Writing, Immortal

by deerRuhan



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 09:15:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deerRuhan/pseuds/deerRuhan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John isn't a writer, not really. But he becomes one to enshrine Sherlock in his words. </p><p> </p><p>A short character study.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Writing, Immortal

**Author's Note:**

> This is a old piece of mine that I reworked a bit, and finally feel like I'm ready to re-post. BBC Sherlock is a fandom that has indescribably changed my life, and I hope that this fic can be the first of many I can share with the community. Oodles of love to anyone who takes the time to read this old thing~<3

John had never been particularly good, or particularly bad at writing as a child. He’d suffered through essays in school, and had occasionally enjoyed writing out a narrative or short story. He’d never really considered it as an area he should improve on specifically, and certainly hadn’t thought it would make up his livelihood. But more and more, he found himself spending time on revising his blog posts, thumbing through thesauruses to maybe find better words to describe his maddeningly infuriating flatmate than ‘brilliant,’ and ‘amazing,’ and reading the rare bits of constructive criticism he received in the comments with attention.

It wasn’t that he liked writing any more than he had before – it was that other things which he _had_ enjoyed, now seemed to be less and less interesting if they were not a mad dash through London, or facing down some criminal or other; writing was something that remained constantly pleasant, outside of his adrenaline-filled escapades with Sherlock. And, okay, yes – what he wrote did center on Sherlock, whether a long, rambling description of their latest adventure, or complaint, or some other observation or remark, but the thoughts and words were his own.

It was getting to be a familiar action, settling in front of his laptop with a mug of tea and a blank Word document open, typing down some fleeting thought or vignette. Some of them didn’t even have anything to do with Sherlock, and always, putting the words onto the page seemed to help him sort out his thoughts, or regain a tiny bit of control in the whirlwind that was living with Sherlock Holmes.

Like on most things, Sherlock didn’t express his opinion of John’s blog posts much – except when he had made some negative remark on Sherlock, which would get him a sulky rebuff. He rarely left comments, except to perhaps point out a spelling error, or grammatical deviances. John takes it as approval. He tries to blog about other things, too, but he’s not fooling anyone. Most of the time, Sherlock is the topic upon which his thoughts and therefore writing, is centered upon – and his readers are certainly not there to read about the preferred tea blend of a rather bland, middle-aged man with some psychological issues. No, as much as he wants to write about Sherlock, the general public wants to read about him. Perhaps everyone has a hidden desire for some adventure, some thrill, some danger, risk – and reading about his is the closest they will get.

Maybe they regard his records of their adventures as fiction. John doesn’t mind, much; sometimes he still has trouble believing that Sherlock is real as well. Perhaps, deep down, he knows the reason he writes down every detail of life with Sherlock so attentively – Sherlock is a genius, a self-proclaimed sociopath, and he gets bored. John doesn’t know how he hasn’t been kicked out of Sherlock’s life yet, for being too dull or bland, but he feels certain that one day, he will cease of be of interest. One day, the texts will stop coming; he will become a non-presence in the world of Sherlock Holmes; he will be an unwanted addition, a distraction, and so, he will move. It is inevitable. And when it happens, he wants to be able to read back on it – being part of the chase, the thrill.

When the inevitable happens, and he no longer walks by Sherlock Holmes, and becomes a mere bystander to the battlefield, he wants something to remind him of what it feels like to be alive. Blood, pounding; his Sig a steady weight in his hand; adrenaline; rushes of color, sound, texture. If he settles down with a nice girl and 2.5 kids, he wants to be able to remember that once, he was part of a team – SherlockandJohn. If his limp returns, he wants to be able to remember the one who could chase it away.

He wants to immortalize Sherlock, _his_ Sherlock, with his words, so that he will know that it wasn’t a dream. That this, the life he lives now, had been real. He wants to immortalize Sherlock, and with him, a better version of himself.

Slowly, surely, he has become a writer. So he will write.


End file.
